


i knew you from the beginning

by themysterytwins



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: I love my boys, M/M, Oneshot, Rival AU, Slight Violence, blood tw, fate au, mastermind!bokuto, sniper!akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 06:58:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8046709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themysterytwins/pseuds/themysterytwins
Summary: in which bokuto has his heart and mind set on a certain rival sniper (who just so happens to be trying to shoot him) and oh, he can't seem to let him go.





	i knew you from the beginning

“Take the shot,” crackled a voice over the agent’s headset, slow and deliberate. The sniper swallowed, ghosting his finger over the trigger. 

“Keiji,” the voice came again, rougher this time, snapping the sniper into attention. He flicked his narrowed eyes around the scene, the windows beside his target. He felt the cold seep into his bones, brushing across the back of his neck and he cursed himself for being so careless as to forget a jacket. 

Readjusting his weapon he inhaled a deep breath of the cool air, stinging his throat and clearing his mind. Information about his target flooded his mind. Koutarou. Age twenty-four. 185 centimeters. Born and raised in the Kanto region (the sniper recollected briefly on his time there). Clever. Fast. Dangerous. 

“Akaashi, take the shot,” the voice commanded over the line, pausing between each word and finishing with a snarl. Akaashi knew he was taking too long. He knew his target was just that; a target. His mission. But something about this Koutarou gave him the slightest feeling of unsettlement. 

Maybe it was because they’d grown up in such close proximity, lives crossing and nearing each other but never tangling. Their paths had been the same until Koutaro had sunken under, working for the organization Akaashi’s was rivalled with. Maybe it was because they’d be an inseparable, unstoppable pair if Koutarou wasn’t who Akaashi was set to end. 

That might be nice, Akaashi reminisced, doting momentarily on their combined power.

Within the building across the street, his target began to move. Closer to the window. Akaashi was suddenly yanked from his daydream as he was reminded he had a mere millisecond of a window of time to make the kill. He inhaled sharply, placing his finger on the trigger. He closed one eye, squinting through the magnifier.

Koutarou’s features were silhouetted against the curtain, one hand held to his ear as if he was on the phone. Akaashi closed his eyes for a mere second, and when they fluttered open again he was looking directly in the eyes of his target. Or, his target was looking at him. His jaw clenched, the look sending a shiver up his spine. How was he possibly spotted? How could he be, when even he, a master sharpshooter, needed the magnifier?

“Abort mission,” he hissed into his headpiece, finger still on the trigger, gritting his teeth.

“Keiji, shoot!”

He took the shot.

He missed.

The silence on the end of the line rang in his ears, his gaze fixed on Koutarou, now backed slightly away from the window, hands behind his back. The glass of the window beside his shattered, sharp pieces spiraling to the hard ground beneath them. He began to fade away, into the shadows of the room, standing back just far enough so Akaashi could still see his figure, moving a hand from behind his back to point his fingers at his eyes, then to Akaashi. He could barely make out a grin before Koutarou was consumed by darkness. 

His skin felt like it had been pricked with a thousand pins. He only now realized he’d been holding his breath, and he exhaled shakily. He was never spooked like this. He never missed a shot. 

Inside Akaashi knew he hadn’t missed by a fluke. It was no accident. He had meant to spare his target, on the edge of his seat to see his next action, his next move. It was almost like they had begun a lethal game of chess, each move pressing them closer, walking a fragile line that thinned with each step. 

Who would take the king?

\--

“What the fuck was that?!” 

Akaashi avoided his tech’s eyes. Konoha’s jaw was clenched, his hands balled at his sides. 

“I directed you perfectly. You were set up exactly how you should’ve been. That shot was a piece of cake! How could you, of all people, miss?” The boy, though Keiji’s senior, was smaller, and seemed very much so now as the desperation rose in his voice. 

“It’s not my fault, so when you report this you better not paint it so.” He said, huffing and crossing his arms across his chest. 

“No,” Akaashi mused. “It was me. I don’t know what quite occurred then, I…” he trailed, considering what had just happened, surprisingly calm even to himself after his shock. He had formed a sort of twisted sense of respect for Koutarou. He thought maybe he should tell his tech what truly happened. It was really what he should've done, but something within him wanted to keep this to himself. A secret shared with a rival. It sparked something close to excitement in him, his eyes glistening with this new game they’d begun.

“Keiji, you’re going to get fired doing foolish things such as this,” Konoha clicked his tongue, turning back to his computer and tapping a few keys methodically.  
Akaashi murmured a response and left Konoha, letting his shoes press a rhythm into the floor.

At his desk, which was currently a mess, papers piling over staplers and other notes, Akaashi moved his pens into a row. He counted them to make sure they were all still there, rolling them between his fingers to feel the rubber grip. He thought of Koutarou, his fingers moving from his own face to gesture at Akaashi.

He thought about the movement. Koutarou was watching him. Had been watching him. How much did he know? As if on cue, the phone sat in it’s holder on the table began to ring. 

Akaashi watched one, two, three rings frozen still before picking it up cautiously. He waited for the line to crackle with a voice. He heard quiet, methodical breathing on the other end, maybe waiting for Akaashi to speak. 

“Humor me, Akaashi Keiji.” No. This was not possible. This line was secure, unable to be accessed outside the bunker... Secure to the simple public, it seemed. Not mastermind criminals with their minds set on a certain sniper.

“Explain to me why I am not dead right now.”

Akaashi’s breath caught in his throat, the hairs on the back of his neck standing. 

“It was an easy shot. It’s certainly not as if you were unable to make it…” Koutarou trailed. “So, that leaves me one option.” He paused, as if he could see the tension in Akaashi’s shoulders, feel the grip he held on the phone.

“You want me.” Koutarou breathed through the phone, sending a chill up Akaashi’s spine. These words created a ball of seething anger in the pit of his stomach. Maybe because Koutarou should be so very wrong, and he wasn’t. Not one hundred percent. Not barely fifty.

“Koutarou,” He spat through clenched teeth.

“Please,” the other laughed, sickeningly sweet. “Bokuto.”

Akaashi inhaled, trying to regain enough composure to talk without too much venom escaping his lips. 

“What do you want?” Akaashi said, lowering his voice to a murmur. There was a pause, then a chuckle on the other end of the line. 

“I hate speaking on the phone,” Bokuto said, ignoring Akaashi’s previous statement. Bokuto hummed. 

“If only we could break the distance!” He exclaimed, something unsettling in the tone of his voice. As if he knew something Akaashi did not. 

And he did. 

On cue, a light flickered on in the corridor outside Akaashi’s office. Without taking his eyes off the hall Akaashi fumbled about in a drawer for a knife, leaving the phone dangling a few inches from the floor. He stood, creaking the door open cautiously, thoughts racing through his head. 

What kind of weapon did Bokuto have? Probably a gun. How did he even manage entrance into the bunker? How hadn’t he been caught yet? How long had he been here? And then, with this last thought, Akaashi’s stomach clenched. Had Akaashi been followed? 

Slinking against the wall Akaashi made his way to the end, passing each door incredulously slow. He half expected to be met with Bokuto’s silhouette at the end of the hall. Instead, a message, carved into the tiles of the bunker walls.

Catch me if you can.

Akaashi grumbled under his breath. Annoyance with this cat and mouse chase almost masked his fear. Almost. 

He turned each corner, nervous energy spiking with each step. Maybe Bokuto wasn’t here, and it had all been a coincidence, he tried to convince himself, thought it all added up to perfectly to simply be mistakes. Bokuto was too smart for that, too determined. It seemed as if once he set his mind on something-someone-he wouldn’t let it go until he exited victorious.

Akaashi had been so focused on what was in front of him he hadn’t even glanced behind him. He wasn’t expecting a surprise, thinking all too cockily that he had Bokuto cornered, and he certainly wasn’t ready to be hastily yanked into the corridor to his left by a pair of gloved hands belonging to yours truly.

Thankfully those years and years of skill training enabled Akaashi’s fast reaction time, and he dug his blade into his attacker’s thigh. He yelped, but instead of backing away from Akaashi, he leaned forward, smashing Akaashi into the wall, placing one hand on his chest and the other a few inches from his head. When they met eyes it was unmistakeable. 

This was Bokuto Koutarou, his target, his mission. Bokuto cracked a wide grin, lips curling back to reveal perfect teeth. Akaashi flicked his eyes from his lips to his hand on Akaashi to his eyes and back to his lips. Inhaling sharply he tried to spit words at Bokuto, sudden anger churning within him, but before he could a hand shot up around his neck, fingers curling around soft skin. Akaashi could almost feel the bruises forming. Clenching his jaw he locked eyes with Bokuto.

He only noticed now that his attacker was slightly smaller than him, muscle mass making up for a lot of his size. Akaashi might be an excellent shooter but his small frame was certainly not a match to Bokutos. Bokuto’s wry smile faded as he leaned into Akaashi, pressing his weight nearly on top of him and bringing mouth to Akaashi’s jaw, pressing his lips harshly along the bone and beginning to trail down his neck, which thankfully he’d released his hand from.

Akaashi’s breath caught in his throat again, struggling to move his arms just enough to grip the handle of his knife and yank it from Bokuto’s skin. This startled him just enough that he took a step backwards, giving the smaller a split second to slide from his arms and flip positions, Akaashi standing over Bokuto with the blade to his neck. He took a few deep breaths, his heart pounding but eyes sparkling, connecting with Bokuto’s. 

He edged the blade slightly deeper into Bokuto’s skin, pressing softly just enough to draw the slightest amount of blood, to mark him.

“You got me,” Bokuto breathed, putting his hands up mockingly. His voice was deeper in person, more gravelly. Akaashi wasn’t aware something could send such chills up his spine. He released a little pressure on the knife, allowing certainly enough space for Bokuto to dart and escape. But he didn’t. 

Instead he reached a gloved hand to Akaashi’s face, Akaashi flinching when he hovered close to his neck in fear of being deceived and slammed back against the wall. Bokuto rested his hand on Akaashi’s jaw, the same place he’d left marks just moments before. He traced circles over the bruising marks, surprisingly gentle and delicate. Akaashi noticed himself leaning slightly into the touch, and snapped himself out of it immediately. 

What was he doing? What was this, this alliance (if you could call it so) that suddenly sprung? Was Bokuto’s flirtatious nature simply part of his plan, or was it organic, real? Akaashi shook the thought. No. Bokuto was digging his way under Akaashi’s skin, appealing to him to break down his walls before he strikes. 

But Akaashi could be dead right now. Just as Bokuto could be, if only Akaashi had made that shot. Maybe it was a strange sort of thank you, an exchange in days living. You spared me, I’ll spare you. That sort of thing. This trait didn’t seem to be embedded in either of them, whatever was happening completely out of character and wrong. Bokuto dropped his hand.

“It was lovely to finally meet in person,” he crooned, tilting his head and blinking lazily at Akaashi. Akaashi twirled his blade between his fingers, the gleam catching Bokuto’s eyes enough to let him know he hadn’t let his guard down. Bokuto took a step forward, catching Akaashi in his arms. It was almost a hug, if you didn’t count the gun pointed at Akaashi’s head. 

Bokuto’s other hand tangled in Akaashi’s hair, pulling him close to whisper in his ear. 

“We should do this again sometime. But I want you to find me. You have the play the game,” he said, almost whining. Akaashi was a piece in Bokuto Koutarou’s puzzle, one he needed desperately, or his game, his world, fell. Akaashi spoke no words. 

Quite suddenly he released him and was gone, leaving Akaashi stunned, bringing a hand to the places Bokuto had made on his jaw. They were already beginning to bruise, the light touch stinging his skin. 

Akaashi did not call for security, and he did not try to run after Bokuto, for he knew he’d already be long gone by the time he found him. Akaashi smiled to himself, exhaling and sheathing his knife, now stained deep crimson with new blood.

Bringing his hand back to his face he traced the marks on his skin thoughtfully. Akaashi knew he and Bokuto’s lives had become tangled, crossed by fate and jumbled into a knot, something that possibly should have occurred sooner in their time. All the could-have-beens aside, they were together now. There was no backing out. Pieces of their lethal chess game had shifted forwards, toppling and stumbling into an unknown. 

The game had only just begun.

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to we dem boyz on repeat while writing this


End file.
